


What I Live For

by kidspawn02



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Angry Hange, Angst, BAMF Hange, F/F, F/M, GOD DAMN FINALLY, HANGE FINALLY GETS A BACKSTORY, M/M, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Yas, hange is my fav, time for some hange-ness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-05-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 21:17:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10447716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kidspawn02/pseuds/kidspawn02
Summary: She is young, a downy-cheeked thirteen year old girl with no meat on her bones, messy hair, and flames flickering behind wire glasses. But she does not hesitate to sign up, to flag down the carriage as it carries recruits through the streets. She holds her head high all the way there, and she vows to become the best. She will avenge her brother.__Or, Hange Zoe gets a backstory.





	1. Castle

**Author's Note:**

> I love Hange Zoe. I have been wanting to write this for a while... but....  
> I wrote this while listening to Halsey's Badlands album (so psyched for her new one) so, of course, the title is inspired by "Hold Me Down" by Halsey, which I really associate with my wife.

At ten years old, Hange is allowed to swing on the walls.

It is not a common practice in her village, and her father would probably be arrested if anyone knows that he does it, but Hange has grown to love the feeling of wind through her hair as she zips on 3DMG. Not hers, of course. No, it is her father’s, the straps tightened much more than they should be in order to grip her thin form, digging into her too-soft skin. 

While most kids spent afternoons running about and playing, Hange walks alongside her father, sometimes hitching a ride with him to the wall, observing the Wall Brigade in a way the military will normally not allow the public to see. Hange grows accustomed to sitting on the ledge of the great walls, legs swinging freely, and watching little ant-sized figures go about their daily lives. Sometimes, her father gives her menial tasks to complete, like giving someone a stack of mail, or even just polishing his gear for him. On the weekends, he tightens the harness and lets her play on the training grounds, building up defined muscle and darkened skin. The first few days up on the wall, she sunburns badly, and spends to nights complaining to her father, who has cocoa skin unthreatened by the sun’s harsh beams. Her mother ruffles her hair and jokingly apologizes for passing on her light skin, pointing out that Hange is still fairly dark compared to other village residents.

When Hange is skilled at moving about in the gear, her father lets her follow him  _ everywhere,  _ even to the barracks, where she meets his co-workers. They are affectionate to her, ruffling her hair and picking her up to move her out of the way.

There, she first hears about the Survey Corps.

Her father is sitting at the long wooden table, taking a lunch of cheesy bread and coffee, one leg folded over the other. His eyes have begun fluttering closed, his brown hair matted as per usual, and his squad has taken up a discussion about the other branches.

Hange is seated on the stool in the corner, a book propped in her lap, half-listening because the novel her friend loaned her is actually really good. 

“Those suicidal bastards...”

“The Scouting Legion, you mean?”

Hange loses interest in the written words right away, because despite the intriguing internal conflict of the hero,  _ Scouting Legion  _ sounds  _ badass  _ and Hange has always had an obsession with the badass.

“What’s the Scouting Legion?” Hange blurts, then shrinks when the man who uttered the words whirls to her, rage flickering alongside the torch light in his eyes. 

“Suicidal dickheads.” He snarls, crossing his arms. “Never join them, Zoe.”

“Language, Rich, Zoe’s only ten.” Her father scolds through a mouthful of bread. “And don’t imprint your opinions on her before she’s gotten any facts.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Hange brushed off her father’s comment, since it implies she’s immature, and Hange considers herself very mature. She also acknowledges herself for not correcting his usage of  _ Zoe  _ over  _ Hange _ . Normally, she will punch the boys who do that. 

Her father shoots Rich a glare, sending the officer out of the room in a rage. He waves a hand at the man seated at his right, a display of power Hange was too young to grasp. 

“They’re known formally as the Survey Corps.” The man, (who Hange recalls is named Harry.) answers. “They’re the only branch to leave the walls. They leave every month, and go out to fight the titans.”

Hange’s eyes widen, and not just because Survey Corps is an even cooler name, but because of the second statement. (And all of the promise it holds.)

“They leave the walls?” She gasps, snapping her book shut without checking the page. (She’ll regret it later as she tries to wind down for bedtime and she wastes half the time recounting where she stopped.) “I’ve always wondered what was outside...”

Her father plops his bread down, all good-natured joking fading immediately as the word emerge in the quiet room. “Zoe, please do me a favour.”

“What?” Hange scowls at the use of her name, but draws herself into proper posture anyway.

“Never talk about joining the Survey Corps.” He warns, eyes narrowing. “Rich may have been mistaken in calling them idiots, but they have the highest mortality rate of any branch.” He clenches his fists, meeting Hange's eyes in a cold stare. “You’re too gifted to throw your life away like that - you’re better being a scientist or a doctor.”

Hange opens her mouth to voice her opinion, because her father is usually open to this kind of discussion. (Especially because she never actually stated that she wants to  _ join  _ the Survey Corps, just that she wants to see more than the tiny town she had spent her entire life in.) However, he shoves his tray away and swishes out of the room before she can say anything else, leaving her alone with Harry, who is pale and sweaty.

“Did I say something wrong?” Hange asks him, eyes wide with worry. 

“No, sweetie.” Harry frowns, ruffling her hair. “The Survey Corps is just a... sensitive topic for your family.” Just as Hange is about to ask  _ why  _ it’s such a big deal, he says the words she absolutely  _ despises,  _ “You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Hange grumbles under her breath for fifteen minutes after he leaves, before losing herself in her book again. She tries to rationalize herself, to convince herself that there is no point in chasing the topic around and around. She will let it go.

For now, that is.

                    __________________________

When Hange is ten, her brother leaves for military training.

“Where are you heading off to?” She murmurs one night, curled up in his lap like she did when she was seven. He cups the back of her head affectionately, even though she is far too tall to fit under his chin like she did when she was fairly young. Her limbs are hanging loosely over his lap, kicking the air half-heartedly. 

“I’m going to go help save humanity.” He grins a fool’s grin, though she does not note that at the times. After all, how could her brave older brother be a fool when he was everything she wished to be? “I’ll get through military training, and then I’ll join the Survey Corps!”

“What if you die?” She asks, picking at her dirt-coated nails, sending a light spray of dirt onto the freshly-swept floor. If her mother had been in the room, she would have smacked Hange over the head for messing it up like that.

“I won’t die - I’m too cool for that!” He laughs, like a fool when she reflects years later, but in the warmth it sounds victorious and full of sugary promises. And what does a kid love more than sugar?

“Okay.” Hange frowns into her lap, though her brother does not notice as he begins to explain the process of enlistment to her. 

She does not listen. Rather, she tries to memorize her big brother’s voice, the words he stumbles over in obvious excitement. He is hopelessly optimistic, full of smiles and polished white teeth flashing mischievously in the fading light. Unlike Hange, her brother is not angry at the walls, or at the titans even. (At the time, Hange didn’t realize how much of a problem the titan’s really were, and thus could not hate them like her father, who was under constant threat of them. Or even her mother, who was a doctor that tended to injured soldiers who fought them monthly.)

She fades to sleep as he rambles on, drifting into a strange dream of a huge mouth just about to chomp down, before she jumps out of the way. Instead of a scream, her dream self laughs, and she feels tears of joy on her cheeks.

“You almost got me!” She hears her voice say, though it is more mature than hers. She is not terrified, rather she feels joy.

“Squad Leader, please...” From behind, the voice hovers a couple of feet away. Hange ignores it, whooping in joy.

The dream is strange, and she does not care much for it overall.

She awakes in the cold morning, a thin blanket wrapped around her. Her mother makes her an omelet and lets her sip some coffee, acting unusually comforting to her daughter before she drops the news. Her brother, apparently, had left that morning without saying goodbye. 

Hange sips cold coffee stolen from what remained in the pot, and holds back tears. She holds onto the promise like a piece of candy, hoping that the sweetness will not give her a stomachache she will later regret.

It is her brother’s choice, she decides as she pushes away her omelet. He wouldn’t have left without goodbye if he wasn’t coming back, right? Or maybe her father wouldn’t let him say goodbye - he had, after all, been  _ outraged  _ at his decision.

Hange stops going to work with her father, and instead spends her afternoons in her mother’s office, studying doctor’s charts. She doesn’t think she can stand him right now, degrading the organization she trusts with her brother’s life.

                    ________________________

Hange has just turned eleven when he returns for a visit, and she hasn’t been happier in what feels like  _ years. _

They spend the day together, by the river where fish flicked about your ankles and the small ones would bite off the dead skin if you were lucky. Hange leans her head on his shoulder, which has white lines and muscle that she is certain had never been there before. He has training the next morning, and he doesn’t know if he will get a second visit, so they have been catching up for the last year. 

Hange confesses that she is angry at their father, and her brother bites his lip, before laughing in an almost stiff manner. 

“Hange,” He chuckles, because he always calls her  _ Hange  _ because he knows that’s what she prefers. “Don’t hold my stupidity against dad.”

He has changed, Hange thinks, as their mother calls them in for a final dinner before he has to go, filling the doorway with her swelling belly. She realizes that he isn’t optimistic anymore, almost like he has seen something he never wished to view.

She wonders how she would change, but decides not to focus on it right now - not when her entire family is crowded around the nice wooden table.

Her brother doesn’t visit again, but Hange begins spending time with her father again. It is not as nice as before, more tense, but she appreciates the calluses forming on her feet from the training he gives.

It’s something she will need someday.

                      ________________________

Hange is twelve and her sister is a brat.

“Just eat the food, Elise!” She snarls, holding the spoon threateningly in front of the baby’s pudgy cheeks. “It’s hard to come by these days, and you’re  _ not _ going to waste it!”

“Zoe, step away from the baby.” Her father says boredly from behind the door. “She doesn’t need to be exposed to your childish rage.”

“ _ Childish  _ rage?” Hange scowls, crossing her arms over her chest. Yeah, sure, she’s angry, but so is almost all of her friends. It’s just common, she supposes. Why be optimistic in a world where family members are coming home dead regularly?

“You know what I mean.” Her father sweeps in, salt-and-pepper hair combed back for once. Today, Hange will not be accompanying him, because they are having a gigantic function to discuss funding. She knew her father is hoping to replace the faulty equipment that broke his friend’s ankle last week, and she doesn’t voice her opinions on how the Survey Corps should probably get the money he is wishing for. (After all, breaking an ankle in the walls won’t be as fatal as breaking your ankle under the shadow of a titan.) But what was the use in her father getting worked up so early in the day?

“Have a nice day, oh dear father of mine.” Hange brushes off the comment he made, instead choosing to hand Elise the container of mush. Correction:  _ Luxury  _ mush. That was an important distinction, because lately mush has been a tad difficult to come by.

Hange walks back outside, and spends her day with a book underneath a tree. 

It is much more enjoyable than arguing with her father, and she acknowledges herself for not starting anything. 

                      _________________________

Hange is thirteen when her brother’s corpse is delivered to the house.

Her mother sobs into her father’s chest, having broken down as soon as she recognized the uniform of the man at the door. Her father is frozen in shock, staring blankly at the casket carried by two uniformed soldiers. In the background, Elise is screeching for someone to feed her, but nobody moves towards her.

Hange is in the corner, clutching the bloody cape that had been handed to her upon her personal request. It does not smell like him like she had wished, but rather like metal. Stupidly, she had assumed it would somehow carry traces of his undescriptive scent, but it is,  _ obviously,  _ just a hunk of fabric covered in a bold scarlet.

As her parents say their final goodbyes, sobbing and blubbering, Hange feels rage bubble in her stomach.

_ Those titans did this... _

She clenches her fist around forest green fabrics, her glasses catching the glint of fading sunlight as her cheeks grow warmer. 

_ I swear to my brother, that with everything I have left in my human body, I  _ will  _ avenge him.  _

That night, Hange Zoe packs a bag and enlists in the military.

She is young, a downy-cheeked thirteen year old girl with no meat on her bones, messy hair, and flames flickering behind wire glasses. But she does not hesitate to sign up, to flag down the carriage as it carries recruits through the streets. She holds her head high all the way there, and she vows to become the  _ best.  _ She  _ will  _ avenge her brother. 

Even if it is the last thing she does.


	2. Hold Me Down

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hange is a smartass. Nanaba is a good friend. Mike is a badass.   
> Welcome to the Cadet Corps.

__

However long after leaving her home, the carriage rumbles to a stop at a field littered with dirt. The wind whips at Hange’s hair, sending it into her hair, eyes, and mouth. It is a welcome distraction from what she has just done.

Cabins rise on the edge of the campground, where the blue skies meets the dull dirt. There are trees off to the left, and Hange can imagine the hours and hours of drills that will take place there. Her muscles twitch in excitement at the thought of being in the 3DMG once more.

They are ushered to a huge field, surrounded by mountains in the distance. The canyon itself is not particularly noteworthy - a couple areas covered in grass, and some old wooden buildings. There is, at least, a clear-cut area for them to stand, awaiting whatever is to come next.

Hange stands straight, at attention. The wind sends a gust in her direction, shivers running up and down her spine. 

“SOLDIERS!” A man steps in front of them. His skin is pale, his hair a salt-and-pepper gray, and his eyes slanted and dark. He scowls at all of them, adorned in a long green trench coat. He scans around the crowd, those eyes cold and calculating. “I thought you would know how to line up!”

They all glance at each other, nervous. Were they not already lined up? 

“Would anyone like to tell me what is wrong with this picture?”

Hange scans the area, What did he mean? They were in a perfectly straight line, all of them standing in a mediocre posture. It was the best you could expect from a group of thirteen year olds at a military camp.

But apparently not, because there is a hand in the air. The man pauses, and looks down at the person it is attached to. “Yes?”

“We should be lined up in rows.” The monotone voice comes from a slight figure - a girl with long blonde hair pulled back into a tight braid, wearing a skirt and blouse. She does not look like much, but there is an aura to her eyes that tells the rest of the recruits she is not one to be taken lightly. “That way, it is easier for superiors to examine all of us, while allowing us to look more professional.” Her voice is as small as she is, and would normally only be heard by those nearest to her. However, this case seems to differ.

“You heard her! Line up!” 

This sends every soldier into a frenzy, doing their best to arrange into four neat little rows. Hange moves herself next to the girl who spoke, because she seems like a good ally to have in this environment.

The man walks back to the front, staring down at all of them. “Well, that looks  _ somewhat _ presentable. About time.”

“You will be calling me Nakamura” He says, frowning down at them all. “Or, sir. I would prefer ‘sir.’”

He approaches the first row, walking menacingly next to each of the poor souls. He stops in front of one, eyebrow raised.

“Good god.” He begins. “How the hell do genetics create somebody this tall?”

The target of this attack was certainly very tall - easily five or six inches over Hange, who was considered blessed herself. His dirty blonde hair hung low over his eyes, causing only his nose to stick out through the mop. It gave him a very mysterious, if not slightly amusing, image.

The man very simply grunting, as if he agreed with the soldier’s statement. 

“What’s your name, soldier?” 

“Mike Zacharias, Trost District.”

“Hmm.” Nakamura scanned him, and gave a curt nod. “Well, that settles it.”

And along he went. Scanning over all of them. Hange felt tense when his eyes skated over her, but he moved on. She let out a breathe of relief.

“You!” He settled for another boy - one with short brown hair and soft brown eyes. Hange feels a pang of sympathy for the poor thing - he looked like he was about to shit his pants. “Name.”

“M-Moblit Berner.” He stammered, shakily. “U-Utopia District.”

A jolt went up Hange’s spine - he was also from Utopia? No way, she didn’t recognize him at all. 

“And why are you here?” Their commander glares down at him. 

“I-I want to join the Scouting Legion!” He shouted. “To contribute to humanity’s fight against the titans!”

There was silence around the whole crowd, as his words settled in. 

“Good!” He grinned. “You’ll be great titan bait!”

A cruel comment to one so terrified, but still valid. Hange could understand the idea. If he scared them enough, those who were too weak to train would be filtered out. And those who remained would work harder and harder to not become titan fodder. It was a good, if somewhat...  _ immoral  _ tactic.

There was a shadow just above Hange’s head, and she glanced up. The sun sent a raging beam into her eyes, but she chose not to try and shield it with her hand. She had no clue how Nakamura would handle it, and she wasn’t quite ready to find out.

“And, you?” He said, eyes ice cold as he stared down at her. She jerked her chin up and met his gaze with as much determination as she could muster.

“Hange Zoe, sir!” She shouted, straightening her spine. “Utopia District, sir!”

He reached forward and flicked her glasses. “Well, Zoe, you had best do something about this glasses.” He grinned down at her, baring strangely white teeth for a military man. “If they fall off in the field, you’re as good as dead.”

She stared straight ahead as he waited for her response. 

“Well?” He asked.

“I don’t have a response to that sir.” She answered truthfully.

He huffed slightly. “Well, then....” He began walking away, though not quick enough that she couldn’t hear his muttered, “Smartass cadets...”

That was a surprise - she could not remember the last time anyone had referred to her as a smartass. She just... spoke her mind, and her thoughts were often based on textbook truths. Her father had shown her from a young age that the best way to win an argument was to have a logical backup for all possibilities. You could make anyone back down if you had enough factual evidence.

He walked away, to the next cadet, and she was left to buzz over her own thoughts.

  
  


For the first time in her life, Hange could be assured that there was food on the table. Of course, she was not ignorant, she was aware that her family was certainly more well off than others - she always had  _ at least  _ two, if not three meals a day.

So, when she settled down at the table with a bowl of soup and a piece of bread, she was swept over by a sense of security that she never usually felt. Sure, she had her own personal reasons to stay in training, but she also realized that staying her would have multiple side benefits as well.

“Hange, right?” 

Hange glanced up. It was the blonde girl from earlier, with her steely eyes and long blonde hair. 

“Yes.” Hange returned immediately. “And you are...”

“Nanaba.” She didn’t give a last name, or even indicate where she was from. Hange shook her hand without questions - she understand the secrecy all too well.

Nanaba slid onto the bench across from her, bowl in hand. “You really should do something about those glasses.”

Hange laughed. “If they ever cause any issue, I will, but otherwise I’m going to stick with the wire frames.”

The blonde’s lips twitched in the corners. “Fair enough, I suppose.”

They eat their stew in silence and Hange reflects that this may be the start of something special.

  
  


Hange is enjoying herself with 3DMG gear. She hovers above the ground, hands splayed out on either side, and simply  _ floats. _ Memories of swinging from rooftops as her father watches flicker through her head, making her mouth curve into a smile.  _ This feels right.  _ She reflects. 

From her right, Nanaba is having no issue. Obviously, she is perfectly balanced. Hange is not surprised - Nanaba has a an air of natural talent.

_ In fact, nobody has failed yet. _

Her thought is shattered by a grunt, and she sees a soldier lying in the dirt, black hair splayed out. He groans, from what Hange can only imagine is going to be a killer bruise tomorrow morning.

Not that she will find out. 

“I’m done!” He cries out, coughing onto the ground. “This is ridiculous! You  _ all  _ are ridiculous!! There’s no point in this.”

He stalks off, leaving a dust of dirt behind him.

Hange gulps, and asks the cadet to lower her. She doesn’t really know what to do with any of this. 

She decides a long walk will clear her head.

  
  


One month into training, and Hange is in the lead. 

She wants to say she is surprised when the commander announces the calculated top ten of this first month. But she is not.

Hange is the kind of talented that knows how gifted she is, but does not brag. She knows her capabilities and her limitations, and she knows how to work with everything.

“Third, we have... Hange Zoe.” Nakamura glances over at her, eyes narrowing. “Our resident smartass.”

She chuckles inwardly, but gives her best salute to show her appreciation. “Thank you, commander. I only got here because of your teaching.”

The students all roll their eyes, assuming she is sucking up.

Hange Zoe does not suck up.

“And, you know, my own natural talent.” She lifts her eyes to meet his stare. “Which, truly, you had nothing to do with.”

There is an air of silence amongst the trainees. Hange shines a cocky grin, relishing in the attention for a moment.

“Ten laps, Zoe.” Nakamura says, straight faced. “Respect your leaders.”

Hange grins, and sets herself off at a brisk pace, ready to go. She actually enjoys these laps - a nice burn settles into her legs, and she breathes in a gust of air before quickening her pace. She wants to find out what they’ll be doing next.

She probably deserves this, she ponders. She just didn’t want the man to think he was responsible for  _ all  _ of her gifts and accomplishments. 

So, she was honest.

People don’t seem to like honesty.

  
  


They train with equipment in the forest, swinging from tree to tree, digging slices into the nape of the giant wooden necks. Hange gets the feel of  _ actually  _ swinging through trees, unlike just zipping up to the top of houses and walls to read a book. She moves quick and agile through the forest, and spins in a perfect circle every time she goes to take out a “titan.”

Her swords dig into the material, and she goes breathless for a moment, the wind blowing into her eyes, whipping her hair.

Nanaba whips by her, though it was less obvious than before. After an incident involving some equipment and a too-loose braid, she had chopped all of her hair off so that it didn’t even reach the top of her ears.

It suited her, in a strange way.

Hange landed on the grass, breathing heavily. She tucked a strand of chin-length hair behind her ear, and looked up to survey her fellow cadets.

Mike was decent enough with the gear, but he was easily the strongest of all the recruits, and put them all to shame. He excelled in hand-to-hand combat, and always seemed to know the  _ exact _ place to attack the titan from.

He was top of the class.

Nanaba was ideally the perfect soldier. She was fast, strong, swift, but she never spoke up during team exercises.

As for the rest.... 

Moblit was an unexpected surprise. Though not as physically strong as many other Survey Corp members, he was the most gifted on the gear, zipping from tree to tree with a natural grace that drew many people’s eyes.

Then, there was Hange herself.

She was no fool - she knew that she was gifted. She was fast in the gear, deadly and precise with her swords, and always scored perfectly on her tests. Besides the occasional snarky comment, she was a perfect soldier. 

Well, unless someone pissed her off.

  
  


“It’s those dummies in the Scouting Legion’s fault for dying,” One recruit was complaining. “They’re idiots! What did they expect from leaving the walls-”

He didn’t finished because Hange had him up by the collar, eyes narrowed.

“What?” She growled.

“You heard me.” He said confidently, though his body language said that he was scared so bad he was about to piss himself. “What’s it to you?”

“Dude,” One of the other cadets murmured. “Her brother died on an expedition.”

The guy’s eyes widened, and he opened his mouth to apologize, (and ask her to let him go.) but there was no need. Hange released him onto the ground, stared down at the wooden paneling of the dirt, counting the cracks, the sprinkles of dirt...

Then, like a soft blanket around her shoulders, Nanaba was there, patting her back, rubbing her shoulders. She was a warm cup of tea at night, the fuzzy old blanket her mother had made, the crackling fireplace she would read in front of.

Nanaba was comfort, and Hange hadn’t had it in so long.

She broke down. She wrapped her arms around Nanaba, buried her face in the joint of her neck and shoulder and burst like a dam, spilling tears all over. Memories flickered through her head, flashing quickly - her brother’s dead body, his old cape, her mother’s sobs, her dad’s stone cold face...

And the night she ran away.

“I know.” Nanaba whispers in her ears. “I know, Hange.”

  
  


Nanaba scoops her up and carries her back to the cabin, laying her in her bunk bed.

Hange curls herself around her pillow, muffling her cries into the soft fabric. Nakamura had arrived just in time to see Hange’s breakdown, and had ordered Nanaba to bring her back to the cabins.

The blonde was rubbing circles into her back. Silence rang through the area, punctured only by Hange’s sobs. 

“Hange.” This voice was much deeper, and Hange burrowed her head out from her folded arms. Mike was crouching next to her, eyes soft. “Are you okay?”

She laughed. “Well, what does it look like?” She said snarkily. 

Mike snorted. “Hange. Please.”

She sat up, staring at Nanaba and Mike. They hovered next to each other so naturally, like they were so used to being right next to one another. When had Nanaba spent time with someone other than Hange?

“I’m sorry.” She wiped her eyes, sniffling. “I shouldn’t have broken down like that.”

Nanaba shook her head. “Hange, please, don’t feel bad for  _ feeling  _ something.”

“But I was  _ choking  _ him.” She said. “I think that’s taking it a bit too far.”

“Just a tad,” Nanaba said, smirking. “Besides, he’s a jerk. He had it coming.”

This caused Hange to chuckle, and she leaned over to hug Nanaba. “Thanks. That makes me feel a little better.”

“I think you needed that.” Mike said. Hange jumped, having forgotten he was there. He peered at her from underneath blonde bangs. “You’ve been repressing the pain, haven’t you? Covering it up with anger?”

Hange tipped her head, frowning. She recounted her actions over the past few months, testing them to see if they matched anger.

“Yeah.” She said, sighing. “I have.”

Mike nodded, as if having expected such an answer. “Then it’s good that you finally got this out.”

They sat in silence, and Hange reflected on how these were the first people since her brother who made her feel safe.

  
  


Hange has been in the Cadet Corps for almost three years now - she stands third tallest at fifteen, with her short brown hair reaching mid-neck by now. Her legs and arms are lean and toned, similarly to when she saw her brother after training. She stands straight, eyes ahead, fist over heart, and chin held high.

To her left, Mike stands in a perfect salute. Nanaba is on her right. They flank her, like two shields, ready to defend.

Ever since her breakdown, Mike had spent more and more time with them. Both he and Nanaba were fairly quiet, but wise. Hange more than compensated for that by constantly yammering about different scientific studies she had read about, usually ones that her father read at the dinner table, which Hange always acquired a copy of later. 

Nanaba and Mike and got along just fine. Well, more than just fine. Hange wished that she hadn’t seen lingering looks, and light touches on the waist as they helped adjust the other’s gear. It sent a pang through her heart as she watched, leaving her yearning for someone to be so gentle with her - to touch her like she was someone so precious.

But, rationally, she was aware of the repercussions of developing emotions in this stage of training. No getting attached when someone could go to a different branch, or even die.

She always shook the envy out, like dirt from her boots. 

Nakamura paces in front of them, face serious as he scans over them all.

“Cadets!” He shouted, “You will now be preparing for your final major training project.”

He moved to the second row, examining them all with narrowed eyes.

“We will be trekking to every single district within Wall Rose.” He said, folding arms behind his back. “It will be a test of endurance, as we will be camping during nighttime. And, you will be allowed to visit your families.”

A chill travels up Hange’s spine - seeing her family after what she did? As a soldier who intended to join the Survey Corps?

There was no way she was going to graduate in one piece.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol, it took me forever to finally type up this whole chapter. I'm so into the idea of a Hange/Nanaba/Mike friendship.  
> I am going to cry, I'm at school so I'll finish this note later but enjoy <3


	3. New Americana

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Papa!” She called, and suddenly she was a little girl again. Racing to her father, her legs pumped harder than they ever did doing any drills, her heart beating faster than when swinging on the maneuvering gear. Her mind was wiped clean of all bitterness over their last words, and the only thought in her mind was - I haven’t seen them in around three years.

Hange expected much more time to prepare.

There wasn’t.

They were ordered to pack up all of their belongings, (which didn’t take long as the most anyone had were a couple of books) and they began their march to the other districts.

It was long and grueling. They marched nonstop with few rests in between. Not to mention, they had all of their gear strapped onto their hips, and their bags were packed with a blanket and a crappy pillow. Hange had her few books jammed in there as well  - books that teammates had purchased for her on the rare days they were allowed out into town.

The sun beat down on their backs, especially against their heavy green cloaks. A drop of sweat rolled down Hange’s nose, dripping down onto the crevice of her collar bone. 

“I hate this.” Nanaba said, panting. She was one of the luckier ones - with her short hair, the few breezes they were receiving was whipping up to her scalp. Hange scowled whenever this happened, causing Nanaba to smirk at her.

“I hate  _ you. _ ” Hange shot back, though they both knew that she didn’t mean it.

Nanaba laughed, a soft sound that went unnoticed by anyone other than Hange and Mike.

“No you don’t, you’re just denying your love.” The blonde gave her a cocky wink. 

Upon first meeting, Hange had never assumed that she would be capable of such a mischievous attitude. Within the first week of their friendship, she had been so quiet, so unlikely to speak up. But, over time, she began to show her true colours.

It began when they were practicing their hand to hand combat, when one of the other girls had grabbed Hange and flipped her over their shoulder. It had caught her off guard, and left her off balance for the rest of the day. When she had rested against the fence, gripping her shoulder, Nanaba had snickered and clapped her on the back.

“Ya know....” Nanaba began, “I don’t think that the proper technique is just standing there while your enemy charges you.”

Hange shot a glare her way, though she had to fight a smile when she thought about how amazing it was to have Nanaba beaming in the late afternoon light.

“You shut it.” She shot back, at a loss for what else to say.

“Who knows, maybe you discovered a new form of attack.”

Hange had socked her in the shoulder, and the two cadets spent the rest of the night laughing.

It was a nice day - peaceful.

Devoid of family drama.

So sad that would be ending soon.

Hange stared at the dirt, letting their conversation die down. Instead, she focused on her basic movements - left, right, left, right, left, right...

_ God, this is boring.  _

“Hey, you should look behind you.” Nanaba suddenly said.

“Who? Me?” Hange pointed a tan finger at herself.

“Who else?” Nanaba deadpanned. She didn’t even look away from the horizon, icy blue eyes staring blankly into the distance.

Hange shrugged, because  _ you never know _ , and glances over her left shoulder.

Sure enough one of the cadets was almost  _ exactly  _ behind her, copying her every movement, down to her pace and the swinging of her arms. 

Now, normally you couldn’t tell when someone was copying you, but this was not the first time. The first time Hange noticed, she had been zipping through trees, spinning and diving in ways she hadn’t thought before. Moblit had been lingering behind, imitating the way she moved. (Which made no sense, because he was a lot better with the gear.) 

Next, she had been sparring with Mike, (not something she would recommend) and when she looked to her left, she saw Moblit watching her and positioning himself into a posture nearly mirroring hers.

These weren’t the only two times, but they were the first two that made her realize what was happening.

The idiot looked up to her, and had no idea how to interact.

She grinned at Nanaba. “I’m going to do someone a favour - give me a minute.”

Nanaba laughed, quietly, as Hange stopped walking just long enough for Moblit to catch up to her. He didn’t notice her dropping into pace next to him, too focused with taking the right steps to match her speed that he was unaware of all of his surroundings.

“Hey, Moblit.” She said, elbowing him in the shoulder.

The brown haired boy yelped, jumping nearly three feet into the air. “Ah!” His eyes widened upon seeing a head of auburn hair and two cocoa brown eyes glittering with curiosity.

“H-Hange!” He said.

“How are you holding up?” She asked, turning her head so that he could see her sparkly smile.

“F-fine. I guess.” He kicked a bit of loose dirt, avoiding eye contact. “I think I’m just... nervous to see my family.”

“You’re from the Utopia district too, aren’t you?” She suddenly recalled, the memory of their first day flashing into her mind.

“Yes.” His cheeks flushed just the slightest. “My mom was really angry when I told her I was going to join the Survey Corps. She thinks I don’t have the guts.”

Hange hummed. “Well, she might have a point.”

He jumped. “W-what?”

She laughed, and clapped his back. “C’mon Moblit, you aren’t exactly the pinnacle of bravery and manliness. But that doesn’t mean you can’t join the Corps.”

“Really?” The smile on his face was wide-eyed, innocent, and full of hope. It made Hange’s heart grow warm.

“Yeah!” She laughed. “You’re probably the best with the gear in our troop, and you’re smart enough to understand the fundamentals of fighting titans.”

Moblit flushed again, the light pink dusting his barely tanned cheeks. “That means a lot... coming from you.”

Hange almost forgot how to breathe - she had never, not once, been told that she meant that much to somebody. She hadn’t imagined in a thousand years somebody looking up to her like this.

She decided to simply smile. 

There wasn’t really a lot to say after  _ that,  _ anyway.

  
  


The nights were cold and difficult. Hange curled up underneath her thin blanket and did her best to drift off to sleep. But she was always plagued by something - whether the cold, nightmares of losing people she loves, or Nanaba’s comments.

They didn’t always sleep in the same bed, but as of last year they found that sharing a blanket not only kept them warm, but also provided a good bit of comfort in the thought that there was somebody there to protect the other.

“Your feet are way to cold.” Nanaba murmured, her hot breath puffing over Hange’s nose. 

“Well, maybe you’re just too warm.” Hange snarled. She kicked Nanaba in the shin, chuckling when the girl let out a gasp of pain.

“You’re an asshole.” Nanaba said quietly.

“But you love me.” Hange returned, curling her head to rest on Nanaba’s shoulder. 

“Sadly, yes.” Hange could  _ feel  _ Nanaba rolling her eyes.

They settled into a silence, and suddenly everything was  _ too  _ quiet. 

“Are you nervous?”

The question caused Hange to start. “I-about what?”

“Going home.” Nanaba’s words were soft in the night air. “About seeing your family again.”

Hange sighed. “Yes.”

She sighed, rolling onto her back to stare up at the night sky. “I just...I’m worried that they’re gonna hate me.”

“Hange,” Nanaba began, staring at her in the dark. “If your parents really love you, then they’ll understand why you did that.”

Hange nodded, though the doubt still rolled in her mind like a thunderstorm. Did they really love her  _ that  _ much anymore? She certainly hadn’t been...  _ nice  _ to them when she left. She and her father had argued so much that it led to a constant storm of either tension, or cold indifference brewing within their household. And after her brother died, it was like they had clammed up around her and her dreams to join the Survey Corps - had tightened their opinions around her future like fists around her neck. It had been bruising, suffocating, and humiliating.

_ But still, it couldn’t be fun to know that their second oldest child went down the same path as their dead son.  _ Hange reasoned in her mind, and rolled so her back faced Nanaba. The blonde’s breath echoed in the silent night air, lulling Hange to sleep.

_ It occurs to her that she doesn’t know much about Nanaba’s past. _

  
  


She approaches the topic the next morning, tossing the conversation out like a stone. Nanaba is hunched by the river, splashing water on her face, not flinching even a little when Hange crouches by her.

“Nanaba...” Hange begins, biting her lip. Nanaba’s blonde hair is being blown by the wind, short tendrils whipping around in her face. 

“Yes, Hange?” The woman responds, face blank as she scrubs her hands together in the stream.

Hange considers the topic, turns it over in her hands. “Well, I suppose... I just wanted to bring something up.”

Nanaba turns back, a gentle smile on her face. “Hange, you can ask me anything.” Her voice is so open and honest, something she only seems to expose around the few people in the squad whom she was close to. 

“Okay.” Hange smiles, and tucks some auburn hair behind her ear. Her hair had begun growing out, and it became far to much of a hassle to cut it every time it got too long, so eventually she settled on just pulling it back into a haphazardous ponytail with a strip of cloth. 

“What was your childhood like?” Hange asked.

In a flash, Hange was aware that this was the wrong question to ask. Nanaba’s shoulders tensed up, and she froze, her face frosting over into stony indifference. 

“Nothing special.” She said stiffly. Rising to her feet, she glanced down at Hange, a tight smile spreading across her face. “I’m gonna go help pack up. You should wash up and do the same.”

She swept away, and Hange rumbled over the conversation as the fresh water rushed over her palms.

 

They reach Mike’s village first, where the tall man was swept up into his short mother’s arms. Despite the height difference, there was an obvious resemblance bare in their features - the same hair, and smart features. She was a short, plump woman, with a kind face and sparkling intellectual eyes. 

When Mike dragged her over to Hange, the Ms. Zacharias shook her hand, and whispered in Hange’s ear, “Don’t let him hurt himself.” Hange nodded, smiled, and said, “Of course not.” 

But it was a different story when Ms. Zacharias met Nanaba, who had been in the back of the squad, staring at the ground as everyone reunited. She walked straight up to the blonde, and grabbed her hand with gentle fingers. Everyone around paused as they watched the exchange.

“I like her, Mike.” She finally said, after staring into those icy blue diamonds for what felt like an eternity. Nanaba blushed, and even Mike had the liberty to look embarrassed as the groups chuckled to themselves. 

“You take good care of each other, now.” She said, patting both of them on the back. 

“And you,” She jabbed a finger onto her son’s chest. “ _ You  _ had best visit, young man!”

“Of course, mom.” Mike muttered, looking down at the dirt-covered floor. “You talk like I’m a child.”

“Mike, sweetheart,” She smiled kindly, eyes crinkling up in the corners. “You will always be my baby boy.”

And Mike was thoroughly mocked for the remainder of the trip.

 

When they finally reached Utopia, Hange found herself lingering near Moblit, almost like a comfort blanket. The jumpy brunette seemed embarrassed when she got too close, so she made sure to be  _ at least  _ an arm’s length away. Otherwise, when he wasn’t too embarrassed, Moblit was actually enjoyable company - yes, he had overwhelming anxiety and always constantly went to worst-case scenarios, but otherwise Hange was pleased to discover the the young man possessed a surprising amount of wit and sarcasm. She had even discovered that when the group got into discussions, it was often Moblit making snarky comments in the corner, looking entirely too worn out by every situation. It was endearing, if not shocking, to learn that the man was capable of being, well,  _ sassy. _

What had been very puzzling was Moblit insisted upon Hange meeting his mother, dragging the two to face each other. After shaking Hange’s hand with a pretty smile, (his mother was extremely pretty for an elder woman) the woman dragged her son to the side and the two partook in a long conversation, complete with a flustered Moblit.

But Hange wasn’t focusing on that, because she heard her name being called in a deep baritone voice. And a shadowy figure with brown hair and tan skin. 

“Papa!” She called, and suddenly she was a little girl again. Racing to her father, her legs pumped harder than they ever did doing any drills, her heart beating faster than when swinging on the maneuvering gear. Her mind was wiped clean of all bitterness over their last words, and the only thought in her mind was _I haven’t seen_ _them in around three years._

And it showed when she leaped into her father’s arms, squeezing herself to him like she did when she was just a little girl. In turn, her dad swung her around in a circle. Her mother was there too, with her baby sister, and Hange found herself cooing over the little thing before too long.

Nothing serious was brought up, no heavy emotions were brought into the air. And while suppressing the serious talk for later was considered unhealthy, Hange couldn’t bring herself to care when her mother wrapped her pale arms around her, and her little sister, (who had started walking) gave her an awkward hug around the knees, too short to reach any higher. This was worth it.

_ She had worried over nothing. _

“I love you, Zoe.” Her mother whispered in her ear, when it was time to say goodbye.

_ Zoe.  _ Hange rolled the name in her mind.  _ Should I tell her that I don’t.... _

_ No.  _ She decided, watching the pure love and adoration in her mother’s pretty brown doe eyes, which had been passed down to Hange herself.  _ For you, mom, I will always be Zoe. _

So she simply tightened her arms around her waist and pulled her in for a tighter hug.

They weren’t mad. It was all okay.

 

Hange had been expected Nanaba’s parents to be dead. Or, even just plain  _ weird.  _ At least then it would have made sense for Nanaba to be embarrassed of them and refuse to talk to them.

What she  _ hadn’t  _ been expecting was the slap that echoed in the streets, leaving angry red streaked on pale skin. Her dead eyes didn’t react, and she couldn’t even be seen flinching in pain. Like she was  _ used  _ to it.

“Hello, father.” She said. Everyone was quiet.

“How dare you,” He growled, towering over her. “How  _ dare  _ you leave your family the way you did? I  _ told  _ you, you are nothing but a little runt. You think you have what it takes to be a soldier?” He grabbed one of Nanaba’s arms pinching it with his calloused fingers, scowl on his face. The blonde winced from the too-harsh sting of his dirty fingernails.

“Look at these little arms! You’re never going to amount to anything in this world!”

Hange had enough, stomping forward, only to be yanked back by Mike. The tall man shook his head and whispered under his breathe, just audible enough for Hange to barely make out,

“Let Nanaba handle it. She knows what to do.”

Nanaba yanked her arm from her father, and stared up at him. “What are you going to do dad? Punch me for not being  _ good enough? _ ” Narrowing her eyes, she took a step back, her voice icy and monotone, echoing through the circle created by curious eyes and nosy ears, all seeking amusement in the dull afternoon heat. “I’m not your daughter anymore. I made it very clear.” Her voice shook, though, and she took another step back, fists clenched, turning red. Her fingernails dug into her flesh.

“Nanaba, don’t you dare--” He made a grab for her.

It was in a flash - Nanaba’s fist flew up, socking the man in the jaw. He crumbled to the ground, groaning and clutching his swollen cheek. Rocking back and forth, he kept on murmuring something under his breathe, looking too much like a madman for Hange’s tastes.

“Stay away from me,” Nanaba declared, shakily. “Don’t touch me. Don’t touch mom. And don’t touch my friends. Or I  _ will  _ find you. And I  _ will  _ kill you.”

Unlike Mike, being mocked every few seconds, or Hange who was floating on cloud nine, Nanaba could tell what emotion resonated from the crowd around her. 

_ Fear.  _ But that wasn’t all, because it was laced with something else, something more powerful and more dangerous than any trainee had gotten their hands on before.

_ Respect. _

 

When the tears began, Nanaba first sought out Hange’s arms, sinking into them like a pillow. They hung behind one of the trees in the forest, not allowing anyone to see, like a curtain meant to block the world from view. 

“I’m sorry. I had no idea.” Hange murmured. “I just thought...”

“It’s okay.” Nanaba cried out, muffled by the soft press of Hange’s cloak. “How could you know?”

Nanaba didn’t need to explain the situation, she only had to lay her head in Hange’s lap for her to understand what exactly had happened - why the woman was so guarded, why it had taken so long to break down her walls, and why she had been so withdrawn when it came to sharing her past.

Hange didn’t ask. No, that was not her business anymore. What she did do was carry Nanaba back to camp, lay their blankets next to each other, and cradle the blonde in her arms. 

For the first time since meeting, it was Hange who comforted Nanaba.

And the best sleep Nanaba had had in a long while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay! I squeezed a crappy chapter out of my ass - thank GOD. I have been having a shit week, and I'm really sorry about that. My treatment team has been talking about sending me back to treatment if I keep my shit up. I really love being at home, so I'll do my best to not screw up.  
>  Anyway, OH MY GOD. The latest episode KILLED me. Like, I knew what happened to Nanaba but seeing it animated just changed everything for me. Same with Mike. It's two different things to read it and then watch it.   
>  But Ymir in that episode? SLAY. I HAVE A NEW WIFE. God, I just was so in love that whole episode.  
> BTW, that thing with Nanaba and her father is just an assumption I made because of what she was yelling in that episode?? Like, I assumed that this meant she had a really complicated relationship with her dad and it just.... yeah. So, I took it the darkest way I could.  
>  Thank you for reading! I'll try to update soon!


	4. Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moblit frowns, stretching out his legs. “I don’t know. But what I do know, is that you’ve attracted the attention of someone very important.” He places a hand on her shoulder, concern reflecting in his brown eyes. “That can be a very good or very bad thing. Be careful.”  
> She smiles. “Don’t worry. I can handle myself.”  
> But the warning lingers in her mind, and she can’t help but wonder why he did that in the first place.

Fist over heart, feet shoulder length, hips straight, and straps all tightened with professional accuracy. Gleaming boots sparkling in the fading sun, with crossed swords resting on tan jackets, all in perfect rows.

Hange stares straight ahead from her spot, where she is watching Nakamura scan them all. To her left is Mike, (of course, he is the top graduate) and to her right is Nanaba. They are the top three, and her heart swells with pride, watching her friends succeed.

Nakamura walks up and down their rows, a glint in his eyes that suggests something a little more than the casual disdain he was so fond of flaunting their way. He is  _ proud  _ of this group.

“Number one in the cadets,” He calls, “Is Mike Zacharias.”

Hange grins, watches as Mike straightens his bike and stares straight ahead, fiercely gazing into the future. 

“You might just be humanity’s strongest.” Their captain says to Mike, who’s eyes widen mere centimeters before settling into their usual shape. “Well done.”

Nakamura nods, and turns his dark eyes to meet Hange’s. “Hange Zoe!”

She flinches as her name is called, her birth name resonating through the lines. 

“You’re a smartass,” He says, “But you’re a damn good soldier.”

Her heart is burning with joy, fire crackling from the pit of her stomach. Her family would be proud - her brother would whoop and clench her in his arms, whirling her around with a laugh and a twinkle in those pretty brown eyes. Yearning for something like that, Hange nudges Nanaba’s hand with her own when Nakamura is towards the end of the top ten line. Chuckling, Nanaba brushes the pads of their fingertips together, enough to make contact, but not enough to break formation.

_ I give my heart to humanity.  _ She thinks, humming.  _ I give my heart, my soul, my mind, and my body to humanity. _

And as the sun sinks to the horizon, scorching the blue sky with flares of red signaling the day’s end, Hange envisions a future where the world will be free.

 

“To killing those goddamn titans!” Someone shots, mug high in the air. Hange whoops, takes a sip of the beer someone had pressed into her hands, and occupies herself with the rations they had all been dealt. 

Mike and Nanaba had disappeared within ten minutes of the celebration, (Hange thought she saw them sneak into the cabins, but she decided to keep quiet when anyone asked.) and this left the brunette on her own, occupied only by some potato stew and a roll of bread.

_ And alcohol,  _ She hummed, deciding that she was now a fan of the burn that sunk down the back of her throat, warming her blood.

She manages a few bites of her food before someone is starting up a dance circle, the cadets simply clapping their hands to create a rhythm. Nudging her way into the crowd around the area, Hange grins at the sight to behold.

To everybody’s surprise and shock, it is Moblit who is taking the center stage. There are other dancers present, sure, but he is the only one anyone seems to care about. Light and graceful on his feet, almost mimicking his movements on the 3DMG. He is like a robin taking flight, dancing on the wooden planks like they are clouds and he is air. It is the most natural anyone has ever seen him.

What is more surprising is that she  _ recognizes  _ the step sequence that he executes with such grace. An old Utopia tradition taught to the children when they went to primary school. Conceptually, it was a simple four step program, but Moblit is certainly spicing it up with a couple of twists and dashes and such, as well as what is most likely fire from the beer passed so freely.

Hange does not think there is any more of a surprise left, but then Moblit is grabbing her hands with his and pulling her into the circle, shouting something about village pride. She shakes her head, tries to explain her inadequacy with coordination, but he just laughs and spins her a couple of times until she falls into the beat.

Flashes of school come back to her, the steps a simple muscle memory from hours of practice. (She had  _ despised  _ the art, but did it for her mother who used to dance all the time) Moblit certainly knows how to keep it fun, even going so far as to dip her until she is an inch from the floor, ponytail brushing against the wooden boards. It is pointless to even try catching up to his obvious skill - he is stealing the show, and for once he is the only star in the room.

She doesn’t realize people are whistling at  _ both of them  _ and doesn’t even seem to realize how  _ close  _ Moblit has pulled them. Maybe it’s because she’s used to such a close proximity with her friends, and she would trust Moblit with her life. So, she doesn’t push him away like most in her situation would. (Though, of course, she has no concept of personal space in the first place, and this is just friendship, right?) But when the clapping winds down from red palms and tired feet, Hange is quick to release him and pat him on the head, smiling at him with a sisterly affection.

“Thanks, Moblit,” She says, grinning. “I needed that!”

She swishes away, walks towards the table where her soup is waiting, and doesn’t notice the crestfallen look on Moblit’s features, or the disappointment of the crowd that nothing scandalous has occurred on their last night. (But they didn’t notice Mike and Nanaba’s absence.)

But Hange is not without her own hormones, and when the pretty cadet with black hair and robin egg eyes sits next to her and begins talking to her about dance, and about how nice she looks on the training field, Hange is open to something not too serious - which explains why she lets him kiss her, and drag her away to the cabins for a quick moment alone.

(And don’t think that the others didn’t notice - they did, and luckily that poor young man will be in the Wall Brigade now, and away from the poking and prodding.)

(Hange doesn’t regret it - he was very pretty, and she’s probably going to die soon anyway.)

 

Hange loves her new jacket, with a green and white wing strung on either side of her back, and the new horse she’s been given for expeditions. (Mairead, according to the horse master) She swings her arms around in her dark green coat, grinning wickedly at the feeling of cool fabric against the flesh on her arms.

She also enjoys the tall buildings made for her new command, with its brown roofs and the long dining tables - even the dirty, worn down bunk beds that each recruit was assigned to within the first hour.

“Alright, here are your quarters,” The soldier said, rolling his eyes in boredom. “ _ Try  _ to keep it clean, okay?”

There is a murmur amongst the group as they nod in agreement, though Hange says nothing. She thinks it’s best not to make false promises. After all, after a hard day of work, it seemed a tad bit unreasonable to pretend like she would have enough energy to upkeep a room very little time would be spent in.

But it is with joy that she lines up outside, ready to start her training. Her gear hangs from her hips, her legs twitching in excitement. Already, her muscles are poised and ready to dart from tree to tree.

“You’re one of the new recruits, right?” 

Hange tenses, though doesn’t jump, and turns her head to the left. Hovering near her shoulder is a slightly taller male, with blonde hair and  _ big  _ eyebrows. (Hange temporarily wonders if he is available for scientific study, because she is fairly sure that the size of those brows are inhuman.)

“Yeah.” She grins, lazily throwing her fist over her heart in a half salute. Seeing as how he’s standing in line with them, she can only assume that he is the same rank as her, meaning she isn’t required to deliver a full salute right now. Instead, she bobs her head and says, “Hange Zoe, number two in my cadet corps.”

“Erwin Smith.” He returns with a fairly somber expression. “Nice to meet you.”

She nods nervously, but before she can turn to face the front, he leans over and whispers, “Would you mind explaining why you chose the Survey Corps above all others?”

Eyebrows raising, she answered, “My brother died on his first expedition.” 

He doesn’t ask anymore questions, nodding as if this is enough of an explanation. (It probably is, knowing the history of most of the recruits.) The subtext,  _ I’m going to kill all the titans and provide justice for his name  _ does not need to be voiced. It’s there, boiling on her surface, erupting from every pore.

He swings to look at the front, just as their commander marches out and examines them all. 

Hange’s throat seems to swell up, and she feels her face heat up. The man who she will be calling her superior is a very attractive one - with ruffled up black hair and smooth features and dark, cocoa skin.

He nods, hands behind his back, and flashes a tight-lipped smile at the recruits. “Well, there seems to be a bit of fresh meat here, today.”

There’s a chuckle from the more senior of the Corps, causing Hange to bristle. The subtext of,  _ let’s see how long they can last  _ is plain and obvious in their tone and body language.

“My name is Keith Shadis, and I will be your commander.”

He smiles slightly, flashing bright white teeth. “You should already know who’s squad you’re in, but if not, I will remind you.”

He pulls from his pocket a sheet of notebook paper, (which was pretty damn hard to get, considering) and read in a clear, strong voice, “Hange Zoe?”

Hange shot her hand into the sky, “Here, sir!”

“You’ll be in Squad Leader Erwin’s group.”

_ Erwin? Erwin is....  _

She looks over her left shoulder, where Erwin scans her, calculation in his gaze. 

_ I FORGOT TO SALUTE AN OFFICER! _

Her cheeks flush red, and she turns towards him, bowing down with fist over heart. “I am so sorry for not saluting you properly earlier, I just assumed-”

“It’s alright.” Erwin says, raising one of those bushy eyebrows. (They’re not  _ bushy,  _ per say, but they’re... voluminous.) “I can’t say that I enjoy being treated as something special in a world where humans are fighting for a right to  _ live. _ ”

Hange is stunned into silence, so numbed out that she cannot hear the other squads being called out. She had never considered looking at the world in such a way, in seeing the lines that divided them all so. After all, at the base of the matter, the whole situation should have been unifying humanity, but instead seemed to be tearing apart the structure at its seams. Civilians mocked the Survey Corps and their inability to stay alive, the Military Police were spoiled brats protected by their precious prison, and the Wall Brigade were too cowardly to join the Corps, yet not skilled enough to be one of the police. Civilians were lazy, spoiled, coddled. They knew nothing of the real world.

Or that was what society taught from every corner. Every group viewed themselves as superior to the other. It was suffocating. 

“You’ll fit in well here.” Erwin smirks, those icy blue eyes glinting in the pale sunlight. “You have an energy about you.”

“An energy?” Hange tipped her head.

“You’re not somebody who can be pushed around.” He says, “Are you?”

With a flash of teeth, the crinkle of her eyes, Hange shows she agrees.

 

 

Training was approached with the expectation that this would be simple enough, exactly like the cadet corps.

Hange was sadly, tragically, horribly wrong. 

By the time the  _ endless  _ drills and all the  _ screaming  _ had stopped, Hange’s legs felt like they were about to melt off. She gripped her knees, panting, and studied the soft hues of grass beneath her feet.

_ God. What have I gotten myself into? _

“C’mon, Hange.” One of the veterans walks by and claps her on the shoulder. She growls at their mocking tone, at the obvious sneering twisting their lips. “You spent already?”

They chuckle, jogging along the field and leaving Hange behind.

A spark of rage rings up her spine, and she pumps her legs harder, running faster. Her legs are numb, and her breathe is already unsteady, but she pushes herself harder and sprints towards the barracks.

“Whoooooooo!!” One of the recruits shouts behind her. “We got a hothead right here!”

They may be mocking her, but by the time she makes it back to the barracks, the commander definitely recognizes her.

 

 

“Do you read?”

Hange pauses, hand hovering over her blades. She had been cleaning them, mopping up the piles of dirt that had gathered along the pretty silver surface.

Erwin has sat across from her, studying her. His blue eyes are inquisitive, as if trying to pry into her skull. 

“Yes.” Hange says, returning to cleaning her sword. “Why?”

“Here.” Erwin places something on the bench she’s at, salutes, and walks away. 

Hange places her equipment to her right, and scoops up the package. 

After picking apart the twine and tearing through a thin sheet of paper, Hange finds that the gift is a simple, leather-bound book, with black lettering spelling out, “The Worldwide Botanical Garden.” 

She furrows her brows, and flips to a random page.

There’s a huge picture on one page, a sprawling image coloured with soft watercolours. Hange gasps at how  _ realistic  _ it is. How the hell did somebody get the colours so accurate?

She decides that amusing herself with a new page is definitely not a waste of her time, and she puts her equipment back up and loses herself in scientific studies.

(Nanaba finds her an hour later, passed out over a pretty little book. The blonde wonders how Hange got something so nice, but ignores the urge to inquire and instead carries her friend to bed.)

 

 

“Who gave you that book?” Moblit asks one day, on break, while Hange is rereading the section on underwater flora. It may be her favourite section so far, because she’s never heard of plants underwater, and the drawings look so _ mystical,  _ almost.

“Squad Leader Erwin.” Hange answers, taking a swig of water from her canteen. 

Moblit is silent, though his thoughts seem to be buzzing through the air. “Do you know why?”

“No.” Hange says. “Do you know why?”

Moblit frowns, stretching out his legs. “I don’t know. But what I do know, is that you’ve attracted the attention of someone very important.” He places a hand on her shoulder, concern reflecting in his brown eyes. “That can be a very good or very bad thing. Be careful.”

She smiles. “Don’t worry. I can handle myself.”

But the warning lingers in her mind, and she can’t help but wonder why he did that in the first place.

She’ll ask him before the next expedition.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lol i forgot to upload this chapter.   
> I've had it finished for a while now, but I kept on forgetting to upload it. In my defense, the YOI fandom keeps on throwing shit at me so I'm probably going to write something for that soon. Ugh. My life is so difficult.  
> Also, can we all just cry about Jean showing up in the most recent episode? FINALLY? God, I missed my lil trash baby. And yumikuri is confirmed canon now (wonderful for my shipper heart) and now I just wanna write yumikuri garbage and post it everywhere.  
> Anyway, some one-sided mobihan (bc I can't allow Moblit any happiness - I love him too much) and don't worry, Erwin/Hange won't be a thing, he just has a couple of tricks up his sleeve.


End file.
